A Humorous Take on Stereotypes, Why I LOVE 'Bad Guys', Masculinity, Peacocks, Men, and Heavily Needed Sassy Gay Friends

Stereotypes, we all know, are horrible labels to give to someone. 

And yet, we’ve all know people in our lives who fit them.  For example, to paraphrase something Brittany said in class, “all girls at some point date that one guy who treats her like total shit.”  We all know someone likes this, a modern day conquistador looking for victory in the beds and broken hearts of our peers.

The beginning of our culture was a precursor for the small and varied continued violences that still happen today, like WWE wrestling.  In class we talked at length about a masculinity that can’t rest as part of its gender identity and that it always needs to be out there proving itself over and over again.  Like in the documentary on wrestling, I’ve knew people in my high school years that over compensated to look like a ‘tough guy’ by bullying other more effeminate males.  I could tell looking around the class that everyone was in some degree horrified by the documentary, and yet the more I’ve reflected on it since that class, the more I’ve realized we seem dulled down cases of the wrongs wrestling showcases in my real waking life.  Domestic violence, possessive men who treat their women like garbage, people hounding after someone simply because they want their body, bullies beating and taunting other school children, homophobia, the list goes on and on.  In a world like this, how can parents teach their kids that there’s strength in walking away from a fight?  How do we teach young men that just because you’re effeminate, you don’t have to turn to violence?



The world of today is all about domination and conquests in the form of self gratification and a warped perspective of what it means to be masculine.  And yet, the world didn’t always used to be this way about its conquests – it used to be much, much worse.  Along with the hopes for personal gain, men ‘settled’ all over the world for government and God, ripping apart the native populations that came into their line of fire in the process in a show of violence that can only be called overpowering and unapologetic.  In Diaz’s writings he blatantly says “Our Lord Jesus Christ was indeed sending us help and assistance” (Diaz 72).  Seriously?!  Let me battle this quote with my own, courtesy of Zoë from Firefly: “Don't the Bible have some pretty specific things to say about killing?”  And yet, I’m sure all cultures have their stories of religious killings.  More and more I can’t help but wonder how many of the people who use the bible for justification of horrible and violent deeds have actually read it.  Personally, I think Cortes must have used his as a paperweight.

Honestly, conquistadors remind me of peacocks, and not because they were brightly colored to attract mates.  They loved to be seen, and much like the birds I’ve compared them to, show off.  When entering the enemy city, Diaz writes “Wide though it was, it was so crowded with people that there was hardly room for them all.  Some were going to Mexico and others coming away, besides those who had come to see us, and we could hardly get through the crowds that were there.  For towers and the cues were, full and they came in canoes from all parts of the lake” (Diaz 69).  Can you say vanity?  I feel like the Spanish at this point were so drunk with power and superiority they couldn’t help but to shout ‘Look at me, look at me’ to all the Native people, who were apparently happy to oblige.  “Who could now count the multitude of men, women, and boys in the streets, on the roof-tops and in canoes on the waterways, who had come out to see us?  It was a wonderful sight” (Diaz 70).

You know what else would have been a wonderful sight?  If Eliza Wharton had had a Sassy Gay Friend, who fixed everything and stopped her before she (with everyone’s help) ruined her life:

I can see it now:  "What are you doing?  What, what, what are you doing?  Eliza, honey, stop window shopping and pick a man already!  This isn't like choosing between Prada and Gucci.  Stop running around with Sanford before you end up ruined worse than Hester Prynne!"

One of the things that most tied The Coquette to The True History of the Conquest of New Spain wasn’t the very nature of conquest, sexual and other, in both pieces.  It was the blatantly unapologetic nature which both writings assume at times.  Eliza Wharton can’t be blamed for everything that befell her, but neither can Boyer and Sanford – her ruin was a group effort.  I think Lucy Freeman (who undoubtedly of everyone in the novel seemed to have the most sense if you ask me) said it best when she told Eliza “But to the disgrace of humanity and virtue, the assassin if honor; the wretch, who breaks the peace of families, who robs virgin innocence of its charms, who triumphs over the ill placed confidence of the inexperienced, unsuspecting, and too credulous fair, is received, and caressed, not only by his own sex, to which he is a reproach, but even by ours, who have every conceivable reason to despise and avoid him” (Foster 63).  What kind of friends, knowing that Eliza was weak to the temptations Peter Sanford put before her of all the joys she most wanted in life, would continue to allow him chances to get nearer to her?  For example, though Mrs. Richman says that she has a low opinion of him because he is “a professional libertine, by having but too successfully practiced the arts of seduction; by triumphing in the destruction of innocence and the peace of families” and yet she still allows him to be a guest in her home when he comes to call (Foster 20).

On the subject of the men in this novel, I find it hard to cast them opposite each other.  While I agreed with Brigitte and Hannah when they described Peter Sanford as Gaston from Beauty and the Beast and Barney Stinson from How I Met Your Mother respectively, I can’t put him in just one role, or put Boyer as Dr. Horrible to Sanford’s Captain Hammer (from Dr. Horrible’s Sing-a-long Blog in case anyone is confused about this reference).  For me, Sanford represents my ideal description of passion: pure, unadulterated, and utterly wild.  Passion is, I think, important in a relationship.  What would life be without passionate love, without something that consumes us in a fire we gladly welcome?  Is this enough to redeem Peter Sanford for his appalling treatment of women as trophies?  I don’t think so.  But do I think that he’s a prime example of all the best things about passion?  Hell to the yes.  Even though I knew it was horrible, part of me loved when Sanford said “I love her too much to see her connected with another for life” (Foster 56).  Yes, it’s horrible that he plans to ruin her potential relationship with Boyer, but at the same time I felt my heart leap. 

Maybe it’s because I’m slightly addicted to fiction characters who are obviously ‘bad’ but passionate, like Erik from The Phantom of the Opera or Seto Kaiba from Yu-Gi-Oh!, I’m drawn to characters that are passionate – let’s face it, Raoul was kind of a weak character.   Much like John Willoughby from Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility, I feel like Sanford would have done well on today’s reality television show ‘The Bachelor’.  He’d probably think he died and gone to heaven having a dozen women who all want his attention in one house ripe for the taking.  Still, there’s no doubt in my mind that Sanford is a deplorable match if you’re looking for a husband of any kind, reformed rake or no.  My blood literally boiled when he said “Though I cannot possess her wholly myself, I will not tamely see her the property of another” when referring to Eliza (Foster 35).  Honestly, I wished I could jump into the pages and tell him to get over himself.

And then there was Boyer, perfect and appealing to all the ladies of the time in which this book is set – except, you know, Eliza.  The entire time I was reading The Coquette my mental picture of Boyer was Mr. Collins from Pride and Prejudice, which I can’t believe anyone would find appealing.  And yet, if I was in that time period, I undoubtedly would follow my family and friend’s advice and marry Boyer if they told me to, because it would be a good match.  Would I be happy?  Hell no, I wouldn’t.  But would it be better than ending up how Eliza does at the end of the book?  I’m pretty sure misery isn’t as bad as being pregnant and then dying.  Yet, at the same time, a life full of reason and without passion?  Can you say stale crackers?  For me, I feel Eliza feels the same way about marrying Boyer that Sanford does about marriage and the idea that she has to “conform to the sober rules of wedded life, and renounces those dear enjoyments of dissipation” (Foster 35).  For Eliza, I feel marriage to Boyer would be a fate worse than death.  What do you think?

And now, I’ve reached the greatest contributor to Eliza’s grim fate – herself.  Frankly, if people (Eliza included) describe you as “young, gay, and volatile” you’ve got a serious attitude problem (Foster 13).  Much like the protagonist in Kate Chopin’s The Awakening, I feel like Eliza wanted too much and couldn’t be contented with anything less than the most extreme version of what she considered freedom and liberation.  Like Gigi in He’s Just Not That Into You, Eliza thinks she can be the Exception instead of the Rule when it comes to Sanford, evident when she says “is it not an adage generally received, that ‘a reformed rake makes the best husband’” (Foster 53).  Whether its naiveté or sheer stupidity, she obviously feels she can be the one to rein Sanford in and make him heel. 

As for her own personality, she’s reads as being such a whiny little bitchy baby.  Pathetic and clinging to everyone for advice she never heeds, she needs to be the center of attention in every conversation and social gathering.  Is there anything worse than a girl that doesn’t know when enough is enough?  Her sumptuous view of her delusional little world seeps into her opinion of Boyer and Sanford when she says “Why were not the virtues of the one, and the graces and affluence of the other combines” (Foster 53).  If I was Lucy Freeman, I would have gotten into a carriage, ridden to where Eliza was, and smacked her in the back of the head.  For me, Eliza is a womanly interpretation of gluttony and greed.  She wants everything to be perfect, and doesn’t understand that part of being in a relationship is accepting someone flaws and all.  Instead, she wanted to combine her favorite parts of her two greatest suitors, and instead ended up alone.